


Rules

by AdaraForests



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdaraForests/pseuds/AdaraForests
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like Heather Chandler said if you want to fuck with the eagles you need to learn to fly and there's no way Veronica Sawyer is crashing, she know thats in order to even stay in the air she needs a change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first published thing in a really, really long time so I hope everyone likes! Thanks to Androids in Memphis for getting me to write this! If people like my writing and my style, I plan to write a lot more for this fandom! This is a bit of a mashup between the musical and the movie and it takes place before both. I'm still getting a feel for characters so I apologize if it's not as good as everything else in this fandom, there are really some gems!

The mall was never her favorite place. The fluorescent lights were blinding and the people were loud and obnoxious, yelling to friends across the mall and making small talk about the latest trends at pointless and Westerburg High School. Veronica Sawyer tried to spend the minimum time at the mall as possible, her and Martha usually just watched movies when they hung out but ever since she’d secured her place as a Heather, Heather Number Four, but not really, to be exact, Veronica had started going to the mall. Not by choice, of course, on her fifth day of wearing denim and washed out floral prints, Heather Chandler had told her that she needed something new. 

It was the fourth outfit she had tried on and the mirror was not her friend. Nothing looked good on her, which was strange because usually she didn’t worry about her looks but for the eighth time in what seemed to be the hundredth store Veronica Sawyer was close to breaking a mannequin or a sales person’s arm, whichever came first. Slumping down in the corner of the fitting room there was a knock on the door. Veronica looked up at the door.

“Yeah?” She timidly responded, waiting for the abnormally cheery voice of another sales women.

“Um, hi?” A meek voice responded. A voice that Veronica recognized. She took a deep breath and then opened the door. Heather McNamara stood in the frame of the fitting room door, fidgeting and pulling on the hem of her pale yellow blazer. She stood there, immaculately perfect looking like a doll that for once Veronica would have killed to look like. Blonde hair, perfectly curled with a yellow bow, her small, petite frame was perfectly accentuated by the pale yellow blazer and short plaid skirt. She reached down and adjusted the yellow knee high socks and shifted around on her black ballet flats. 

“Hey,” Veronica said and gave a weak smile, trying to nicely think a way to tell Heather that she didn’t feel like a lecture on lipgloss or another lesson on flirting or a talk about how she needed to eat less carbs or snippy comment about her diary, but before she could say anything Heather M started to talk, with a judgmental glance down at Veronica’s pile of old clothing and another one at the current outfit that she was trying on, which judging by the look on her face, was not going to cut it. Heather kicked a article of clothing from Veronica’s old clothing from the floor, as if touching it would give her the same fashion sense. She kicked the black dress away from the scarf. 

“That scarf looks like my ten year old sister would wear it and, you know, Heather is going to crucify you if you’re not pretty by tomorrow, Veronica.” Heather fidgeted around a little where she was standing. Veronica wanted to slam her head into a wall. As if this wasn’t frustrating enough without Heather there to watch her fail miserably and rub it in her face when she was demoted back to loser status.

“Thanks, Heather, that’s really helpful,” Veronica deadpanned and rolled her eyes. Heather backtracked quickly and fidgeted with her hands more. 

“I mean, like in a good way, my sister has a great fashion sense for someone who’s ten-” She stopped herself and then blinked. “Look, Veronica I’m sorry, I’m just nervous. Heather said we had to see if you could do this on your own but I saw you walking around the mall and you looked kind of lost.” Veronica snorted and rolled her eyes at the last statement rubbing her own arms. 

“You have no idea.”

“So I followed you into the store and I’m here to help,” Heather finished lamely and took a sudden interest in her black patent ballet flats. There was silence for a minute as Veronica shifted around in the high heels that she had tried on. It took Veronica back for a minute. She blinked. At first she thought that it might have been a cruel joke. Maybe she had been sent by Heather or she was here to laugh at her.

“Nah, thanks, Heather, but I think I’m-” She turned back to the mirror before Heather cut her off. 

“Your heels are too high!” She squeaked. Veronica stopped. Heather looked back over at her. “Also, your hair is way too boring, your lips aren’t big enough. Your cuticles aren’t trimmed, your way to pale, you have nice cheekbones but you can’t-” Slowly, Veronica turned to face her. 

“Heather, why do you want to help so bad?” She asked, exasperated and tired from the entire day of trying on blazer after blazer, skirt after skirt, and blouse after blouse. She never wanted to see another shoulder pad again and seeing Heather’s perfectly made up face and Barbie Doll like outfit was like a mocking glance at the person she was trying to be but never would be. Heather bit her bubble gum colored lips and then gave a small smile. There was a silence before she responded. 

“I like you, Veronica.” She started lamley. “You’ve got nice hair and you’re pretty,” Heather didn’t look at her. Veronica sat down on a seat across Heather. Heather shrugged and looked up at Veronica. “But mostly you’re nice.” For some reason that struck a chord with Veronica. Maybe because in all of her years struggling through Westerburg, nice was really all she ever strove to be everyday she was kicked down for being nice, but now she had proof that nice mattered. That even popular, pretty, perfect Heather liked nice. 

Well, nice and good hair. 

“Go ahead, Heather,” Veronica said, standing up. “Make me pretty. Tell me what I need to know.” Heather smiled brightly and clapped. 

“Ok! First things first, you need some new clothing, I mean that scarf has to go.” Heather sized up the outfit that Veronica was currently trying on and she shook her head. “Red is Heather’s color and you can’t wear it. You can’t wear green or yellow either, those are me and Heather’s. Also, no brown because that’s ugly and no orange or pink. Also, you can’t mix patterns and you need to start wearing makeup. You need socks too and we’ll need to work on your hair.” Veronica looked down at the short black skirt that was hugging her hips. She had unbuttoned the red blouse she was wearing and her pale skin looked almost white against the cherry colored blazer. She changed back into her black dress and followed Heather out into the store to find appropriate clothing to try on, mostly just tagging along with Heather who was carrying an armload of skirts, blouses, shoes, and sweaters, all white, black, cream or gray. 

“Are those like rules?” Veronica asked, slightly dumbstruck as the two walked back into the fitting room area. Heather shrugged and motioned Veronica into the small fitting room, passing her a new skirt and cardigan. 

“Kind of,” she mused and turned Veronica to face the mirror, “They’re things that you have to do if you want to sit with us. We can’t have ugly people sitting with us. So they’re not really rules, they’re like...” Heather tried to find a word. “Regulations.” Veronica sighed. 

“Heather,” she said. “Do you even know what that means?” Heather mused for a minute and Veronica cracked a smiled. “It’s the same thing as a rule. Don’t just repeat things you hear people say. That’ll get you in trouble one day.”

“Okay, then they’re commandments.” Veronica shook her head. 

“That’s even worse, that makes me think of God and there is no way in all of hell that we are ever comparing Heather Chandler to god.” Heather opened her mouth to protest but Veronica shook her head, silencing the pretty blonde. “We’re not even going to mention Heather and god in the same sentence again. Don’t even do that.” 

“Well then what do we call the rules?” Heather asked and put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips, passing Veronica another skirt to try on. Veronica shrugged and shed the other skirt, zipping up the new one. 

“I thought they weren’t rules.” Raising her hands in defeat, Heather groaned and rolled her eyes. 

“Ok, they’re guidelines.” Veronica hid a smirk and snickered a little as she reached over for another outfit choice. Heather passed her one and Veronica stripped again, donning another outfit check herself out in the mirror and opening the door for the hundredth time so Heather could see.

“Which is the exact same thing as a rule.”

“Fine they’re rules.”

“I don’t like rules,” Veronica pondered and touched the silky fabric of the gray of the shirt.

“You’re going to have to start,” Heather sighed. Veronica turned to face her. “Heather loves rules and hates when people don't follow them.” Veronica made a face. “You look so very,” Heather nodded her approval at the outfit. 

“Why do you?” Veronica surprised herself when she asked. She looked at the blonde Heather in the mirror. It seemed to knock her off guard a little. 

“Why do I what?” 

“Follow all of them, not wear red because Heather Chandler claims that she owns it.” Heather M nodded. She knew that talking about the head of the most powerful clique at school like that probably wasn't the best of ideas. Heather sighed and shrugged, sitting down on a stool outside the fitting room  
.   
“Once, I wore red and she called me a color stealing skank and then wouldn’t let me sit with them.” Veronica’s eyebrows raised and her jaw dropped. She knew Heather could be a bitch, but to her own friends? Veronica had been ridiculed too and she tried to think back to how it felt to offer some sort of comfort to Heather, who was looking down at the floor now, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. For once, Veronica Sawyer was speechless. Was that going to be her life> Catering to Heather? Doubting what her friends are saying behind her back? Being ostracized because she wore the wrong color? Her stomach was spinning and she shook her head. 

“That’s horrible,” Veronica scoffed, getting her footing back and shoving the thoughts from out of her mind. “And also ridiculous, no one owns the color red. Come on, Heather,” she said and gave a small smile. Heather shrugged with and walked out of the fitting room. 

“I’ll get you something else,” Heather said with a small smile, changing the subject gracefully. Veronica gave her a wider one. Maybe she wasn’t the mindless lemming that Veronica had originally thought. 

Carefully folding the skirt and blouse, Veronica was left in her white bra and tan underwear standing in the dressing room. Heather opened the door and Veronica, shocked, rushed to cover herself. 

“Geez, Heather!” She snapped.

“Sorry! Sorry!” The blonde rushed to close the door, handing Veronica more clothing over the top of the fitting room door. Veronica took the clothing and proceeded to put on another black skirt, slightly longer than the first but still far shorter than she was used too. “And you’re going to need new underwear too!” Heather called. Veronica groaned. This time the blouse was white and she buttoned it up, opening the door. Heather bit her lip and smiled softly. “See?” She said and turned Veronica to face the mirror. “Now you have the basics down. These can be worn with anything.” Heather smoothed the shoulder creases out like Veronica’s mother did sometimes. “If you’re going to be a Heather, you need a color,” the blonde said and Veronica bit her lip. “Like not just for croquet. It’s like a signature. It’s like our thing.” Veronica touched her waist, which had been accentuated with the skirt that Heather chose and the way that flowing blouse was tucked in. 

“I could be pink?” Veronica suggested and Heather bit her lip pondering the color choice. 

“Too much like red.” Veronica groaned.

“Purple?” 

“Too much like green.”

“Purple is literally nothing like green.”

“It’s kind of the same shade,” Heather argued, looking out the door of the fitting room to the store. 

“Heather,they’re literally two different colors and they can't be the same shade if the colors aren’t the s-” Heather;s eyes had already landed on something outside the fitting room doors though and she turned to Veronica, excitement shining in her brown eyes. 

“Blue!” Heather exclaimed dashing out the door excitedly and returning with a bright blue blazer. “This would look so great with your eyes and it’s not even anywhere near any other color!” Veronica crossed her arms over the blouse and shrugged. 

“Heather, I don’t know…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t know why it was such a big deal. It was just a color but it felt binding, sealing, like selling your soul to the devil and Veronica already knew from being a student at Westerburg that if the devil wore Tiffany, blazers, shoulder pads, or lipgloss it would be Heather Chandler. 

“Veronica, come on! Just try it on!” Slowly, Veronica took the blazer from Heather and slipped it over the white blouse and then turned to face Heather, who gasped and was grinning at her hard work. 

“Oh wow,” Heather breathed and Veronica had to agree. Her blue eyes were instantly brightened and someone her dark hair shone. 

“Geez, Heather,” she gave a small nervous laugh and put her hands on her hips. “You should like do this shit for a living.” Heather squealed and threw her arms around Veronica. 

“Now all you need is less boring hair, some makeup, shoes…” Heather continued the long list of clothing, shoes, and makeup that would be needed before Heather Chandler saw her and for once, Veronica was starting to feel better about this whole thing. 

“What about this?” She asked and held up a royal blue scarf. Heather M made a face and stuck out her tongue. 

“No way. Heather hates scarfs. She’ll never let you get away with that and she’ll tell you that you can't accessorize for shit.” Heather shook her head and Veronica put the scarf back and turned over to Heather. 

“Thanks, Heather. I’d be dead if you didn’t show up today and you’re really saving my ass now.” Heather blushed and Veronica tried to meet her eyes. Even in her few days with the Heathers she had seen Heather Chandler yell at both of her friends to shut up, commenting on their outfits and just about every other criticism you could name. “I’m serious, Heather. You’re amazing at this shit! I look like a movie star! Heather’s going to drop dead when she sees me tomorrow!” Veronica was standing in the checkout line and laughing with Heather M like they’d known each other forever. When they reached the front of the line Veronica put down the clothing on the counter. 

“Find everything okay?” The perky redhead behind the counter asked. Veronica nodded and smiled. 

“Thanks, I did.” The women started to ring up the clothing. A new black skirt, a navy one, and a gray one, a white blouse, a cream one, a new pair of heels that were apparently the proper height, Oxfords, and three new blue blazers and royal blue knee high socks. After the order was rung up, Veronica stopped for a minute.

“Will that be all today, Miss?” The women at the register asked. Veronica bit her lip and shook her head, running back to the section with the accessories and taking the blue scarf of the rack and bringing it back up to the counter.

“Veronica, guidelines,” Heather reminded her gently and Veronica closed her hand around the scarf laying it on the counter and protruding the money that her mother gave her for new clothing.

“Heather, my love,” she said with a smirk. “I really, really don’t do well with rules.” She paused. 

Or guidelines. 

“She’ll hate it.” Heather worried and touched the scarf. “Heather hates scarfs. She thinks they’re tacky and dumb.”

“What’s the worst thing she can say to me?”

“That you can’t accessorize for shit.” Veronica scoffed and chuckled touching the silky scarf one more time before the women bagged it. 

“Let her.” Veronica says and then turned to Heather. “Like Heather says, if you want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly and that, Heather, is exactly what I am doing.” She wanted to be with the Heathers. Desperately, but there was no way she was going to get kicked around like a puppy. The blue scarf was her small, passive aggressive way of rebelling. She wasn't going to pull it yet. Veronica Sawyer was to smart to jeopardize her position yet, being beautiful was too much fun and a relief whenever she walked into school, she no longer had to worry about assholes. Veronica shoved what would happen after she decided to rebel out of her mind. It was inevitable, and Veronica knew it, but thinking of the consequences made her head throb, her breath come short, and her stomach toss, so for now she was going to focus on bands she should like, makeup she needed to wear, and the rules that would inevitably be broken one day or another, because Veronica Sawyer never did do well with rules.


End file.
